The Hole
by CassandraHolly
Summary: It's like being in a hole, with no way to get out. Warning: Eating Disordered behaviour, may be triggering.
1. Prologue

**PLEASE READ THIS AN: This may turn into a series, I don't know. I wrote this because I'm experienced as far as this is concerned and this is like a smaller way of making people aware, and an outlet for me. Review if you like, requests are welcome.**

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><p>"<em>Fat." <em>

_It was that voice again, bouncing around in his skull. Mocking him, teasing him, hurting him._

"_Fat."_

_Dougie lurched up the stairs, leaving behind him the happy chatter of his friends and their girlfriends. Not his girlfriend- he didn't have a girlfriend._

"_Because you're fat."_

_He stumbled in to the bathroom, turned on the tap and started gulping water from it. It was routine to him now, nothing new here._

"_**Fat.**__"_

_He turned to the toilet, bent over it, stared down and closed his eyes._

_He knew what he had to do._

_His finger moved up to his mouth, inside, further, further-_

"_**FatFatFat**__-"_

_Further, just a bit more-_

"_**Fat! Fat! Fat!**__"_

* * *

><p><em>After he'd finished, he wiped his mouth, flushed the toilet, gargled with mouth wash, splashed water over his face and quietly walked in to the living room. Nobody noticed he'd gone- but he didn't care, simply because the voice was gone, and maybe, just <em>maybe, _he wouldn't be fat for much longer._


	2. Deadly Advice

"Ugh, I feel like crap." Dougie groaned, resting his head on his arms. He _hated _photo shoots, especially when he felt this ill. Tom patted his head and he waved his hand in an attempt to get him off.

"Mate, you been sick?" Danny asked, coming up behind them. Dougie shook his head. "Do it, it'll make you better."

"You pissing around?" Dougie asked, his voice muffled by his arms.

"No. Honestly, it's like it clears all the gunk out of your system."

"Oh, yeah, I'll just go up- chuck my non- existent breakfast." Dougie muttered sarcastically.

"You don't need to have eaten anything. Just chug a pint of water and stick your finger down your throat." Danny replied, while Tom raised his eyebrows.

"What?" The Northerner defended himself. "I used to have to do it when I was ill for ages."

Dougie sighed again and closed his eyes, attempting to zone out. At that moment, the photographer strode up.

"Places!" Tom and Danny moved away. "Oi, pretty boy. Place, now." He marched off, Dougie trailing behind.

* * *

><p>Three hours later, Tom kicked the car door shut, holding Dougie up they moved in to their house. The smaller blonde's head was lolling against Tom's chest; none of the pills had had a slightest effect, and he was practically out of it.<p>

Harry was right behind him, unlocking the door for them. He took hold of Dougie as Tom went to get some Ibuprofen, and carried him up the stairs. Dougie didn't move at all as Harry laid him in his bed and removed his shirt and jeans, replacing them with baggy sweat pants. Danny peered in.

"He asleep?"

"Don't know." Dougie's eyes flickered open, unfocused, as Tom came in and placed a damp face cloth on his forehead and a glass of water next to the bed.

"Can he take tablets?"

"Probably not."

"Do you think it's a mi grain?"

"Must be, he's right out of it."

Tom tucked Dougie in; Dougie just closed his eyes. They looked at each other and left the room.

* * *

><p>Dougie breathed out a moan. He was in so much pain, it was unreal; he couldn't move any part of his body without it affecting his head.<p>

Vaguely, he remembered Danny's words from earlier. _"Do it, it'll make you better... It clears out all the gunk from your system."_

Dougie slowly attempted to push himself up off his stomach; his arms gave out and he collapsed back down. After several painful attempts, he slowly stood up and made his way to the bathroom with baby- steps. When he got there, he looked around. What next?

"_Chug a pint of water and stick your finger down your throat."_

He reached slowly for a small glass- it wasn't a pint, but whatever. After filling it up, he shakily drank it, ignoring (or trying to ignore) the spots in his eyes.

Afterwards, he turned to the toilet and stared down in it.

"_Stick your finger down your throat."_

He didn't want to do this.

It was disgusting, and he hated puking.

He didn't realise he was crying until the tears splashed in to the toilet water. The pain was so _awful, _and if this would make it stop then-

"Dougie?"

Dougie looked up to fast; his vision swam and he fell back on the sink. Hands caught him under the armpits and pulled him upright. When his vision cleared slightly, Dougie came face to face with Danny.

"You okay?" Danny asked, concern lacing his voice. Dougie sniffed and shook his head. Danny pulled him in to a hug, then pulled him back and stared at his face.

"Were you going to make yourself ill?"

Dougie sniffed again and closed his eyes. Danny sighed.

"Dougie, it's not always the solution. Right now, you need to preserve energy. Just, go to bed. Sleep."

"I can't..." Dougie's whisper was hoarse. "It... hurts..." He began sobbing again. Danny picked him up and placed him back in his bed, lying down next to him and holding him tight.

"It'll be okay, Dougs." He whispered.

"Can't I- I just t-try?" Dougie managed.

"No, mate." Danny murmured, stroking the blonde hair. "I can't let you do that."


	3. Motivation

**-Two days later- **

Dougie stared in the bathroom mirror, frowning slightly. The single sentenced text he'd just recieved rang in his mind.

_Lose some weight before you take your shirt off, yeah?_

He was slightly scared to take off the long- sleeved shirt he was wearing- but he had too. He had to see if it was true. So he slowly slipped it off over his head, then turned back to the mirror, expecting to see a huge, fatty blob-

No.

He wasn't _fat_

He turned from side to side, staring at his stomach, his hips, his upper arms, back to his stomach. Sure, he had a bit of a belly- it was only tiny, though. He wasn't flat, like Dan, but he wasn't fat, or even slightly chubby, ike Tom used to be.

Was he?

* * *

><p>"Yes, I think you'll be fine now." The doctor stood up and removed his hand from Dougie's forehead, looking at the boy on the sofa then turning to the other three. "Expect a higher than normal temperature and loss of appetite for a while; he'll be back to normal in a few days." With that, he swept out of the house.<p>

"Moody bastard." Danny muttered. Tom moved over to Dougie, who was on his back on the sofa, and re-covered him in the blanket; Dougie smiled slightly and curled in to it. He was way better now; his head barely ached, and the nausea was gone. Tom took the thermometer into the kitchen. When he came back, Danny was flopped over one armchair, staring at the TV, and Harry was lolling on the other, reading a cricket magazine- in other words, nothing new, although Dougie should really be on the carpet in front of the radiator, stretched out with his DS and lizards, like he usually was.

Tom lifted Dougie's legs up and sat down, placing them back over his lap. As he relaxed, his hand slid down on to Dougie's stomach. He frowned, turning to the blonde.

"Dougie, are you sucking in?"

"Huh?" Dougie's eyes flicked briefly to him, then back to the TV.

"Sucking in your stomach."

Harry looked over.

"No." Dougie gazed at the telly, chin set stubbornly.

"Dougie, I spent three years doing that. Why are you sucking in?"

"I'm not!"

Danny slowly looked over, blinking as he arose from his football-supplied reverie.

Tom wrenched the covers back and pulled up Dougie's shirt; Dougie batted his hands away, but not before Tom saw his stomach.

"You are!"

"Am not!"

"Why?" Harry interrupted, his eyes fixed on Dougie's flushed cheeks. Dougie's eyes moved down to the toy lizard on the floor next to the sofa, and he shrugged. "Cause I'm..." He trailed off.

"You think you're fat." Tom said. "Dougie, you're not... not fat."

"You would say that."

"What's that meant to mean?"

"No, I mean..." Dougie hesitated then got unsteadily to his feet and stumbled out of the room.

"Dougie-"

"Back in a sec."

They listened to him rummaging around in the kitchen. When he came back, he had his old, barely used mobile in his hand, which he placed in Tom's lap before curling up on the sofa again.

Tom looked at the screen. His face paled at what he saw, and his lips tightened.

"Tom?" Harry probed.

"_Lose some weight before you take your shirt off, yeah?_"

"What?" Danny said, shocked.

"That's what it says. Dougie, who sent you this?"

Dougie shrugged.

"Dougie." Tom said, sighing. "Pugsey, you're the skiniest person I know apart from stick-man Danny."

Dany grinned, and Dougie sighed. "Yeah."

There was a silence for a while as they watched the TV, then Dougie got up, walking out of the room and dragging his duvet and teddy- lizard behind him.

"He still thinks he's fat." Harry stated.

"Yep." Tom agreed.

"He ain't skinny." Danny said; the other two looked at him sharply and he shook his head. "No, he's not fat, but he's not real skinny, you know? He has a little belly. Just a little one, but it's there."

Suddenly, Harry nodded. "You're right. But it's just puppy fat, he'll grow ot of it."

Outside, Dougie slowly moved away from the door, shaking.

"I'm fat." He whispered, before running up the stairs, duvet and lizard trailing behind him.


	4. In control

**AN: yeah. okay.**

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><p><strong>Two Days Later<strong>

"Dougie, do you want to come play footie with us?"

Dougie looked up from Zukie to see Tom standing in his doorway, dressed in jogging bottoms and a grey top. He swallowed, remembering what had been said two days ago, and shook his head, looking back down at Dougie. He heard Tom sigh- not his usual Reserved- For- Dougie sigh, but more a Stop- Being- A- Dick sigh.

"What's wrong with you recently?"

Dougie shrugged. "Nothin'."

"This is about losing weight, isn't it?" Tom said impatiently. "Look, if you want to lose weight then get off your arse and come running! Do some excercise, as opposed to sitting around with your lizards, scoffing your face-" He broke off, rubbing a hand over his face. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did."

Tom opened his mouth, closed it, and walked away, slamming Dougie's door behind him. Dougie lifted Zukie to his face and stared in to the black beady eyes. "It'll be okay, Zukes," He whispered. "They'll understand, as soon as I'm thin again." As he spoke, he lifted Zukie back into his tank and began a rond of sit- ups.

95 sit- ups later, he lay back on his floor and let out a long, tired breath. 95- not bad for a first time... but he cold be doing _better._

He could be _thinner._

Thin.

Thinner.

Thinnest.

The other three, they could all top him in confidence, in speed, in sports abilities, in musical abilities, in intelligence and in initiative- but now it was his turn to take the lead in something. He was going to beat 'stick man' Danny. People would look at him and think, 'Wow, that Dougie from McFly, he's got some power, being in control of his body like that.'

He would win. Starting today.

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><p>"I'm not hungry."<p>

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You didn't eat breakfast or lunch, either."

"I feel ill."

"The doctor did say he wouldn't have an appetite." Danny said as he passed. Dougie watched him as he threw himself down at the kitchen table and immediately stuffed his face with pizza. He felt gratitude- Danny had put Harry off the trail, with a lie that wasn't fully a lie. _Thanks, Dan,_ Dougie's mind said. _Thanks, doctor. _

But then the echo of what Danny had said returned. _'__He's not fat, but he's not real skinny, you know? He has a little belly. Just a little one, but it's there." _Was he really thanking Danny? The same Danny who'd confirmed his fear? But thinking about it like that, he should be thanking Danny- because if Danny hadn't said aloud what they'd all thought, Dougie wouldn't have started thinking about his weight. He'd have remained thinking he was fine as he was- which he wasn't. _Yeah. Thanks, Dan. You gave me the motivation I needed._

Dougie looked back at Harry, who was watching him. He gave a small smile and tried to look as pathetically ill as he could- it worked; Harry ruffled his hair and walked after Danny. Dougie glared after him before swinging himself up the staircase and hurrying back to his room, where he closed the door and leaned against it, beathing out slowly.

He was in control now.


	5. First time

Dougie ate the pasta slowly, every bite weighing him down a bit more. He wondered how much fat he was taking in- he'd heard that there were people who knew how many calories were in any food you asked them.

Dougie wanted to be able to do that.

"You alright?" Harry broke the awkward silence. Dougie looked up from scowling at his bowl and nodded, albeit stiffly. "Yeah," He muttered, voice slightly hoarse. "Tired."

He avoided Tom's gaze completely. Ever since Tom had snapped at him in his room, the tension between them had been almost tangible, and neither was making a move to fix it.

"Can I leave it?" Dougie mumbled a while later, when he still had half a plate left. There was s small silence, then Harry nodded. "Sure," He said, smiling at him. "Just drink a strawberry milk? Get some energy inside of you..." Dougie nodded and took his plate to the side, taking a strawberry milk carton and leaving to his room as quickly as he could.

And when he got there, he lost it completely.

"Shit... oh fuck. What the fuck, Poynter, why would you..." He grabbed his hair in his hands and then froze.

Of course. Why didn't he think of it before?

Dougie strode across the room and into his bathroom. He didn't even think this time- no time to think, if he thought about this he would back out, he knew he would- pint of water, finger down throat-

Dougie only felt it coming a nanosecond before he did. He didn't even have time to remove his finger from his mouth before the vomit was cascading down into the toilet. It went over his hand, the seat, even the floor, spattering against his cheeks.

By the end of it, Dougie was panting and tears were running down his face. After a second of hesitation- is it gonna happen again? If I stand up, am I gonna puke over the floor?- before he moved over to the sink and cleaned up clumsily. He splashed water over his face and then, as an after thought, wiped down the seat and floor with toilet tissue, flushing it away before moving back on his bed and breathing out slowly.

It had all... it had all happened so fast. He had expected... well, something _bad_.

But it hadn't _been _bad. Unpleasant, yeah... but only while he was gagging. The rest of it had actually been okay.

And that was when he smiled. It was okay. He could eat if he had too- it was all going to go out of him anyway... this was it; no more fat inside of him, not anymore.

Dougie began to laugh. "Thank you, Danny..." He whispered. "So, so much... thanks..." He began to cry then, too, and eventually fell on his back on his bed in a shaking, sobbing, giggling heap.

And that was the last time Dougie cried for three months.


	6. One Week Later

It had been a week since the first time Dougie had purged.

A week of not eating breakfast.

A week of exercising in his room every morning and night- he had a routine; five minutes of stretching, twenty crunches, twenty step ups, 2 sit ups,100 star jumps, five minutes of stretching- and repeat. And repeat. And repeat; until he a) Collapsed and couldn't get up; b) Had an asthma attack and couldn't breathe.

A week of purging every meal he ate.

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><p>Sitting down at the table that night, Dougie flicked his eyes around at the food that covered it. Garlic bread; 332 calories. Peporoni pizza; 335 calories. Knowing this made him sound like a professional but the reason he had these numbers memorised was purely due to the fact that at least 70% of the time the meal was pizza and garlic bread.<p>

It took him only ten seconds to work out just how many times he would have to repeat his exercise regime to rid himself of the dirty calories that polluted his body- and at the end of it, Tom dropped a bambshell.

"We're gonna go out to James' tonight. You're coming." He stared Dougie out, and Dougie wondered if he could hear the screaming in his mind.

How the shit was he going to do his exercise now? Going to James' house _always _translated as 'going to see James, Matt and Charlie, getting wasted and staying the night'.

He couldn't do that.

Beer was full of calories.

So were the snacks the three always kept.

Dougie numbly took a piece of pizza, lifting it to his lips and nibbling it slowly. He felt Tom's eyes on him and so, to diffuse the suspicion, closed his eyes and took a huge bite.

Tom looked away.

Dougie swallowed pizza and bile.

Fifteen minutes later, he threw it up again.

* * *

><p>"Alright?"<p>

James' grin was the first thing Tom saw as the door opened, and he smiled back at one of his closest friends.

"Yeah mate, you?"

"I'm good. Hey, Dan, Haz- aw, and it's little Dougsey..."

James' grin faltered as Dougie stomped past, pausing only to give him a patronising stare worthy of Severus Snape. He looked back at Tom. "What's up with him?" He asked quietly as Dan and Harry moved past, high fiving him. Tom made a face. "Long story."

* * *

><p>A while later, when James, Matt and Tom were standing in the kitchen, Charlie and Harry were playing table tennis in the games room, Danny was on the X-Box and Dougie was outside, Tom explained.<p>

"You called him fat?" Matt asked.

"Well, no, I just said if he felt fat he needed to exercise-"

"So you called him fat, then?"

"Well." Tom frowned. "I tried to apolgise, but..."

"To be honest, mate, he's probably just hormonal, he's fifteen after all."

They all looked out to the garden, where Dougie was sitting cross- legged on the grass.

"Like, pissed off hormonal?"

Matt scoffed. "No, horny. Yes, pissed off, twat head!" Tom flicked him the bird and Matt sniggered.

"Get him drunk." James suggested. They both looked at him.

"No, seriously. It'll cheer him up, get him involved."

"I guess it'll help." Tom walked to the window and opened it, sticking his head out. "Oi, short stuff!"

Dougie looked up after a while.

"Come get pissed with us."

Dougie stood up clumsily and James laughed softly. "He's like one of them puppies, y'know, hasn't grown into his legs yet." They all chuckled in agreement.

Dougie walked in and looked at their amused faces, obviously assumed they were laughing at him and walked through to the living room, glowering.

"Good start to cheering him up," Matt mumbled as they followed him through.

* * *

><p>Later on that night, Dougie, sat in between James and Charlie, swallowed another mouthful of beer and closed his eyes as the dizzyness washed over him. He was out of it, he knew he was- bt e was in the in- between bit, conscious thought still present but muffled.<p>

But it was _there_, the feeling niggling away at the back of his mind, so he pushed himsf up and stumbled to the stairs. He dragged himself p them, tripping over to the bathroom and shoving the door sht. There was no water, shit, could he even do it without water? Well, worth a try wasn't it?

He peered into the toilet, opened his mouth as far as he could and stuck his finger down to the back of his throat. His gag reflex reared up and it was easy for him to tell when it was coming, now- he pulled out his finger as the liquid, now fouler- tasting than it was before, poured out of is mouth.

It was surprisingly easy- probably because it was liquid. He swallowed, did it one more time just to be sure. A white glob of God Knows What appeared- when that _thing _came up it usually meant he was done, so he reached over and grabbed some tissue, wiping his fingers, mouth and toilet seat before flushing it all away.

He splashed water over his face, checked himself in the mirror- slightly blotchy but they were all pissed anyway so they woldn't know- and left the bathroom. He was steadier now, more sober, and he treaded down the stairs lightly, sitting on his own in an armchair this time rather than joining the guys round the computer as they sang along drunkenly to Panic! At The Disco songs.

Dougie sighed and stared into space. Yea, he felt better.

Better than he'd ever been before.


	7. Thinspo

**To the reviewer Amy: you're a sweetheart. Your support means so much to me; thankyou.**

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><p>It was a month later that Dougie came across Thinspo.<p>

It had began on Tumblr; he had typed 'bulimia' into the search bar, and five minutes later he was hooked on this new tag, this tag called 'Thinspo'. Pictures, quotes, daily intakes, stories, inspiration- 'thinspiration', actually- and it was never ending.

By the next day, he had an account on an Eating Disorder site. Same thing, just... bigger. He stayed up all night, adding friends, sharing stories, learning facts. Went back to Tumblr's thinspo for a few hours, created a Thinspo account, and suddenly had followers, followers like _him_.

And then he came across her account.

She was nothing spectacular- just another 14 year old girl with an Eating Disorder. She herself didn't quite know what it was; but she didn't eat unless she was forced, in which case she would purge it.

Just like Dougie.

He wasted hours on her page, scrolling through everything she'd ever posted, questions she'd answered, pictures she'd reblogged. He read her story, her goal weights, her secrets and her fears. She was just trying to be perfect, for herself, for her friends and family and everyone and anyone who looked at her and Dougie sat there reading it and whispered,

"I know."

And he was addicted.

* * *

><p>Dougie went from interviews to gigs to his laptop, always the same sites, same routines. Everything was routine to him now, he <em>liked <em>it that way. Tom, Harry and Danny were a bit worried about him- not much, he was a good actor, he had to be, but Fletch had convinced them he was just going through a phase. So they let him be, offered their 'support and understanding' every once in a while, and this made Dougie laugh in his head because if he told them he was bulimic, they'd run far away.

* * *

><p>From Her, he'd learnt tips- want to purge but scared people will hear? Towel under the bathroom door, shower on. Need to binge? Colour and taste code it; eat something brightly coloured, orange doritos or blueberry blue, or something strong tasting, like chocolate cake or coke- when you purge, you know when the job's finished.<p>

He incorporated these habits into his daily life, along with the obsession with coffee and green tea, apples and bananas. These, he could eat without feeling guilty.

He began fasting; the light feeling made him airy and happy, like no-one and nothing could ever touch him, drag him down. That included calories.

Calories invaded his dreams. His mind turned them into huge, ugly monsters, under his bed, in the shadows, waiting to pounce and make him dirty again. They crouched in his stomach when he was hungry, growling and rumbling, but he attacked them with milk- and- sugar- free coffee and they dissolved.

And he was happy again.

And then Danny met Georgia, and Dougie got jealous.


	8. Knowing

**obviously ages have been changed here. Dougie's 16, Danny and Georgia are 18. Thankyou for support and reviews. x**

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><p>Georgia was beautiful.<p>

There was no doubt about that; it was as glaringly obvious as Danny's beauty. What made it worse wasn't their matching accents, their similar sense of humour, their... well, their _cuteness _together, as a couple. No, it was the fact that they _flaunted _their beauty.

Maybe it was unintentional, but either way, they insisted on walking around in varying states of undress, shoving their _thinness _into everyone's faces.

It was only Dougie that it bugged, though. Tom and Harry loved her, because Danny loved her, and they loved anyone who could de-slutify Danny.

She was a model, blonde and perfect.

He was a guitarist, brunette and perfect.

And there was Dougie, Dougie the bassist, not- quite- blonde but not- quite- brunette, and _definitely _not perfect.

So, naturally, Dougie hated her.

Dougie tapped his fingers against his side as he stood on the scales in his bathroom, building up the strength to look down.

He finally glanced at the number and winced; he was nearing ugly eight stone. Eight stone! How disgusting.

He kicked the scales back under the cupboard and went to his room, beginning his exercise routine again.

Half an hour later, he heard the front door open, Danny and Georgia's entry marked by their harmonising laughter. Tom and Harry greeted her loudly, pleased at her presence- they were never pleased at Dougie's presence.

Dougie faltered in his jumping jacks, then sighed and began again. Switch: 20 crunches. Switch: 50 sit ups. Switch: 30 press ups-

"Dougie?"

Dougie jumped halfway across his room and landed on his bed as the knock sounded at his door. Grabbing his phone, he started pressing random keys.

"What?"

Georgia poked her head around the door. "I wanted... um, to say hi."

Dougie just looked at her. If Danny knew he was being this hostile, Dougie knew he'd get his ass kicked, but still.

Georgia sighed and looked down the hall then back at him.

"Anything I can do-"

"No."

Dougie bit back the guilt in his throat; what gave her the right to make him feel guilty, after all?

Georgia blinked. "Sorry," She mumbled, and retreated, closing the door gently behind her.

Dougie bit his lip.

"Me too," He whispered.

At the dinner table that night, Dougie and Georgia avoided eye contact completely. Tom made the night into an into an occasion, ordering some Indian or Chinese or other foreign shit because Georgia _and _Giovanna _and _Izzy were around.

Dougie stabbed his fork into the noodles, glancing up at the people around the table. Slowly, under Tom's gaze, he raised the noodles to his mouth and chewed and chewed and chewed and swallowed and-

And something happened, and he felt them inside of him, sloshing around. And that hunger came back, like that one mouthful had opened a floodgate, and he flinched as the pains stabbed at his gut and his tummy and then he looked back at his plate and the food was _gone._

He had _eaten it._

All of it.

The numbers whirled around in his head- how many calories? 600? 700? 7000? 90,000?

He swallowed as bile rose, the voices screaming at him getting louder as the shock of what he'd just done faded and he was faced with the truth.

"_Fat." _

It was _that_ voice again, bouncing around in his skull. Mocking him, teasing him, hurting him.

"_Fat."_

Dougie lurched up the stairs, leaving behind him the happy chatter of his friends and their girlfriends. Not his girlfriend- he didn't have a girlfriend.

_"Because you're fat."_

He stumbled in to the bathroom, turned on the tap and started gulping water from it. It was routine to him now, nothing new here.

"_**Fat.**__"_

He turned to the toilet, bent over it, stared down and closed his eyes.

His finger moved up to his mouth, inside, further, further-

"_**FatFatFat**__-"_

Further, just a bit more-

"_**Fat! Fat! Fat!**__"_

After he'd finished, he wiped his mouth, flushed the toilet, gargled with mouth wash, splashed water over his face and quietly walked in to the living room. Nobody noticed he'd gone- but he didn't care, simply because the voice was gone, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be fat for much longer.

Across the table, he didn't see Georgia's eyes penetrating him, watching, _knowing_.


	9. Tired

The girl from Tumblr was going on a fast.

_Apple and water, for five days, until the weekend- I'll be with my dad then, and he makes me eat... anyone with me? Just want one person, to text support. :)_

Dougie moved his mouse over to the 'reply' button, then hesitated. The girl was extremely popular, as far as tumblr followers went; posted two minutes ago, she already had 20 replies.

Dougie bit his lip, then sat back. If they could all volunteer, why couldn't he? He was _sure_that he followed her more avidly than any of these other thinabees.

So he clicked reply.

_Sure,__I'm__up__for__it_. :)

Nice, Dougie conceded. Casual, yet friendly.

He didn't know why, but something about this girl intimidated him. That she, at 14 years of age, would have so many followers, so many people asking and telling and talking to her, reblogging, replying, submitting, like she was a celebrity. And she loved every one of them, that was obvious. She made it clear; 'thankyou' and 'you're beautiful' posts were a regularity and Dougie smiled at each and every one of them. But then everyone had that one person in their life, the person they respected and desperately wanted to talk to but couldn't.

Dougie carried on scrolling through the thinspo tag, then the thinspo boys, then anorexia. The fact that the majority were girls didn't bug him- if they could do it, why couldn't boys?

And then his message icon went red.

He clicked on it, waiting for the 'how do you purge' or 'you're a boy? But boys don't have Ed's!' like they always were, but what he got instead was a single sentence:

_Awesome, I'll give you my number? x_

It was her.

Dougie grinned as he replied, and a second later, her number was in his inbox. He typed it in to his phone and sent a single message- _So__when__do__we__start?_

It was only when she replied with '_tomorrow__x'_that he realised what he was doing. Fasting for more than a day wasn't something Dougie had experience with; he didn't want to let either of them down. But then a bubbly feeling filled him up as he remembered fasting pictures and tips, and he typed back '_sure_'.

Dougie was going on a five day fast.

* * *

><p><em>For almost four weeks after that, Dougie tried- and failed- to fast. But he told her everytime he slipped up and she was there for him, comforting him, stopping him from doing crazy shit like he wanted to. She didn't want him to do this if he wasn't confident, she said. She didn't want him to be as fucked as she was.<em>

_But__I_do _want__to,__he__replied.__I_ do_._

_So she held him up, and made him feel better, rubbing lotions made of words and text hugs in to his bruises whenever he fell down, weaving her love and confidence in to him like a piece of string that wrapped around their wrists that pulled them closer and closer until_

_Ring ring._

"_Hello? Dougie, is that you?"_

"_B- Beth..."_

"_Shit, Dougs, what's wrong?"_

"_I- I can't- do this..."_

_And she made him better again, and they turned in to two people together, they were called Mia and Ana, after their disorders- 'but are they disorders, or are they just a way of life?'- and everytime he looked at the food he thought of her and he put it down._

* * *

><p>110 pounds.<p>

* * *

><p>"Dougie?"<p>

Dougie looked up from his phone as Georgia entered the otherwise empty house. "What?"

Georgia bit her lip. "Um, is Danny-"

"Out. With Tom. Getting food."

"...Oh." She perched on the edge of the sofa across from him. Dougie turned back to his phone. Georgia coughed.

"Dougie, how much do you weigh?"

Dougie looked up.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Dougie opened his mouth to start yelling, but Georgia cut him off. "Dougie, you think that me, a model, hasn't dealt with anorexia? You think I haven't thrown up, haven't had a fasting buddy-" She nodded at the phone- "And haven't starved myself?"

Dougie stared at her, eyes huge, heart beating at a scary pace.

"I'm not going to tell on you yet, Dougie. But I swear to God if I see you drop below 105 pounds- and I _will_know when that is- then I have to tell them, okay?" Her eyes were full of tears. "You hate me, because I'm thin, and I get that, honestly, but... you can't do this forever, Dougie."

Dougie blinked, then stood up and walked out. He ran up the stairs and slammed in to the bathroom, sinking to the floor. He put his head in his hands and shook for a minute, before fumbling with his phone- she'd be able to translate the typos, she always did- and he let her words float over him like a blanket, and he curled up under it and fell asleep.

And he stayed asleep- even when he woke up, and walked, and talked, and laughed, he was asleep, because he was just so fucking _tired._


	10. Liar

"Has Georgia done anything else yet?"

She lay on her bed, one hand holding the BlackBerry at her ear, one pinching her stomach, a habit she couldn't overcome.

"No," The Oh- So familiar voice replied. "Even though she said she'd know when I was under a hundred and five."

"You're hundred and four now, yeah?"

"Yeah. You still on that plateau?"

"Stuck at hundred and six, yeah." She lifted her head to look at her stomach- it stuck out, _still_. "I haven't eaten today, yet." Truth be told, she'd been doing this for too long to feel like a day's fast was an achievement. Give it a month, then she might be happy for herself.

"Me neither. Tom keeps trying to tell me, but Danny told him to lay off again. I swear, I love Dan, but he's just so _dumb_. If he knew, he'd be the one shoving cals down my throat."

She laughed quietly, then the niggle in the back of her mind, the one that had taken up permanent residence in her head, came to the surface.

"Dougie, I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not hurting me."

Same reply as always. She knew the argument was futile; he'd made it clear that he depended on her as much as she depended on him.

"Just tell me when you wanna recover, yeah? I'll leave you to it, or I'll support you, whatever you need, just... don't let me drag you further."

Silence. Then; "I'm too far in, anyway."

She nearly cried then. Whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault." He paused, then his playful tone was back. "Three hundred crunches?"

"Do it."

They hung up together. She hopped off her bed and on to the tiny bit of available space in her room- as spotless as it was, it was so fucking _tiny_- and, lying down on the rug, began the exercises. She knew she'd finish first; he was better at the press ups, which she was complete shit at. She also knew he'd only chose this exercise to make her feel better about winning, get her mind off the fact that she was basically the reason he'd sank so far, but she never turned down an opportunity to work out.

Being fucked up did that to you.

Dougie's phone beeped, and he smiled.

Finishing off his last few exercises, he sat up and reached for the mobile.

_Told you I'm faster _

He smirked and texted back instantly.

_Fuck you whore_

They were past the point of leaving kisses, and insults were merely terms of endearment.

_Hate you too faggot_

Dougie grinned, and began to reply before there was a knock on the door.

"Yeah?" His voice was flat, bored- he could hear it himself, but didn't care.

It was Tom.

And Harry, and Danny, and...

Georgia.

Dougie stared at her as she stood n the doorway, her eyes huge and watery.

"I had to," She whispered.

"Dougie," Tom said quietly, "We called your mum. She's coming to pick you up tonight."

Dougie blinked, mouth falling open. "What... what did I do?"

"How about throw up your food?" Danny was suddenly yelling

_Why are you yelling? What happened?_

"Starve yourself, exercise until you collapse, lie to us about everything, block us out?"

Dougie stopped listening, staring at Danny's lips as his voice got louder yet further away. He didn't understand.

_What did I do?_

"You're kicking me out?" His lips were numb, voice broken, confused, lost.

"No." Harry put an arm on Danny's. "We're sending you back to your mum's, so you can chill out for a bit... recover. Dougie, you're breaking." His voice was cracked, but Dougie didn't hear this, only heard the word 'sending'.

"What about the band?"

"It's not as important as you getting better, Dougie."

_I just wanted to be good enough_

"I'm not ill!"

_Why are you so mad at me?_

"You're anorexic!"

Danny's exclamation was met with a dead silence, and Dougie's hands were trembling and his eyes were huge and his heart was hammering and there was blood in his ears

_No_

"No."

and he couldn't breathe and there were arms around his body and Harry was holding him tight

"No, I'm not."

and everything was swaying and he was just so _tired_

"I'm... I'm fine..."

_Liar._


	11. Reaching Out

It was a month since Dougie had been sent back to his mother.

_We can't let you keep doing this to yourself. We're returning you to a solid environment. This'll help, Dougie. You can come back when you're better._

As if it was something that could just be cured. As if there was a tablet he could take to make the voices in his head shut up.

Dougie's mum had tried her best to keep him under surveillance. Hours had been spent on the internet looking on various sites about how to deal with a son intent on starving himself to death. These sessions had invariably ended in her returning to her bedroom in tears, leaving Dougie alone in the living room where he would immediately force himself through five sets of push ups and 300 crunches.

They tried to keep in contact with him. Dougie himself was the only problem there. He had steadily ignored their calls and emails, anger- or was it just sadness?- threatening to spill over everytime he thought of them.

Tom. Danny. Harry. The confusion and regret had been clear on their faces as they waved him off, huddled together in the driveway. _What did we do? What didn't we do? How did this happen? How did we miss this?_

And Georgia hadn't even shown up to say goodbye. Not that Dougie wanted her to. In fact, he had a feeling if she had shown her face in the day it took for them to organise his return, he might have hit her.

"I would now," He whispered. "I would kick her face in if I saw her now."

But he knew that wasn't true. The exhaustion rendered him incapable of showering, let alone summing up any kind of hatred. Hatred was too strong of an emotion, took to much energy. So did caring.

Dougie had stopped caring about everything.

"Apart from her."

And it was true.

* * *

><p>"<em>We were stupid."<em>

"_I know."_

_Pause. She took a deep breath in, let it out, and he could swear he felt the shaky air through his mobile. "Who were we kidding? I thought I could stop. I said I could. They told me I wouldn't."_

_Pause._

"_I can't." _

_Dougie swallows. "Me, too."_

_His agreement is enough for the floodgates to open. "And there we were, pretending it was something we could control. How fucking _stupid_! I can't keep an apple down, for fuck's sake, and I cry when I look in the mirror, and I can't _talk _sometimes! How fucked is _that_? I just get so... I get so... Oh, God, Dougie, I can't explain it, just some days I can't even open my fucking _mouth _because I'm too tired. Do you know what I mean?"_

_But he didn't. He didn't, because even though he got tired, so tired he couldn't get out of bed, so tired he felt it in his bones, he knew he wasn't as far gone as she was. "No," He replied honestly._

_They had agreed they shouldn't talk anymore. "You need to save yourself, Dougie," She had whispered, and he could hear her tears. "Before you get like me."_

_He had cried as he hung up, and hadn't stopped until all the moisture in his body had ran out across his cheeks._

* * *

><p>The house was empty; Dougie's mother was picking up supplements from the doctor's office.<p>

Now he gazed at his phone and thought about her. He thought about her hideously honest posts on Tumblr and how she had given up her whole life for something she would never obtain- perfection. He thought about his own bandmates, miles away in London, probably thinking about the future of the band and him. He thought about how he loved starving, and how it had fuck all to do with his weight.

Dougie stood up so fast his head spun. A shaking hand raised to his mouth and he gazed around at his empty bedroom.

_What _did he just think?

_He loved starving, but it had fuck all to do with his weight._

That wasn't true. Dougie shook his head, aware of how insane he looked and not caring a bit. That wasn't true. He only did it to lose weight, that's all it was! And it worked! All he wanted was to lose weight!

And then another image popped into his head. Her, at 92 pounds, ribs casting shadows on her concave stomach, hipbones jutting like shelves that kept her too- loose jeans up.

"_I'm so fucking FAT!"_

And Dougie knew, in that instant, that it wasn't about weight at all. If it was then both she and himself would have stopped when they could see their ribs poking through papery skin.

But then what was this about?

Dougie's head was light. Confusion and hysteria threatened to overwhelm him.

"What the _fuck _is going on inside my _head_?" He exploded to the empty house. His voice echoed off the empty walls, and he stumbled to his mobile.

The phone rang for too long. He tried to hang up, but his hands were shaking. Tried again, and a voice crackled out of the mobile.

"Dougie?"

Dougie froze.

"Dougie, is that you?"

Air raked through his throat. "Yeah."

"What is it? Are you okay? Is everything alright?"

She sounded panicked. Why wouldn't she? He hadn't called her in a month, had barely spoken to her before that.

Dougie let out a sob.

"Georgia, help me."


	12. Theories

this is shit, sorry not sorry haha

thanks for all your amazing reviews though 3

* * *

><p>Georgia was nervous. Not nervous in an 'Oh dear, what's going to happen now?' way. Nervous in a sweaty palmed, beating heart, shit-why-did-I-agree-to-this way.<br>He had told her about the neglected Starbucks in a muffled voice, and she had told him she'd be there in three hours. And here she was.  
>But where was he?<br>Georgia knew it was stupid to be scared of him. Hostility and fame aside, he was about a foot shorter than she was. But it was hard to forget the dirty looks and silence he had blessed her with for the past few months, and Georgia had to admit that he genuinely freaked her out.  
>And then the door opened and she wondered how she ever could have been frightened of this fragile little ghost.<br>Dougie's eyes flicked around the dark room, landed on her for a fraction of a second, and returned to the floor. He moved to the counter and mumbled an order Georgia couldn't hear but recognised instantly.  
>Black coffee, please. <em>Pleasedon'tlookatme.<em>

Holding the mug in both hands, Dougie turned and walked over with uncertain steps. He stood across from her for a second before edging into the chair.  
>"Hi, Dougie."<br>There was a pause. Then, in a voice smaller than his frame, "Hello."  
>Georgia watched him for a second, taking in the details she had learned off by heart years ago. The collar bones that stuck out through the layers of fabric piled on in an attempt to ward off the cold. The cheeks that seemed more bone than skin. The skeletal hands half hidden by a long shirt. The attempt to cover up his skinny body, when all he had wanted in the first place was for people to admire his thinness.<br>The terrible double standards of an eating disorder.  
>"You've lost weight."<p>

For a fraction of a second, pride flashed across his face. Then, as if a lightbulb had been switched on, the pride was replaced by a terrible fear.

Georgia know, then, exactly where he was. Dougie had faced what had been gnawing at his mind for the past few months- he was _killing _himself- and it terrified him. The smugness at another pound lost was long gone.

But he didn't know how to stop.

Dougie opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "I've been throwing up."

Georgia nodded slightly. "Laxatives?"

Dougie swallowed and gave a tiny nod.

"Exercise?"

Dougie looked up then, cheeks flushed. "Exercise is healthy!"

"Not," Georgia murmured, "When each sit-up pushed your body closer to death."

Dougie's mouth snapped shut. "I was-" He choked and tried again. "I was being _healthy_. I was just- I was trying to be _healthy" _His eyes said more. His eyes said,_ please believe me I'm not lying I swear I was being healthy I didn't mean it to go this far I'm sorry-_

"I believe that's what you think." Georgia stated. "But I also think you're wrong. You weren't doing this to be healthy. You're sensible, Dougie. You wouldn't have stopped eating completely if you were just trying to tone up."

Dougie gazed at her, trying to look irritated and failing miserably. "What _was _I doing, then?" His challenging tone poorly disguised his curiosity.

"I know a few theories," Georgia said around a sip of coffee. "I can tell you them, if you like. But it might reveal things about you that you don't want to hear."

Dougie narrowed his eyes.

"Well, the first one is a fear of growing up. A person is scared of leaving their childhood home, having to face problems on their own, having to depend on only themselves and so on. So they create a child-like body for themselves in hopes that they won't _have _to grow up." Georgia pointed her spoon at him. "Your body is definitely similar to an eight year old's right now. But I don't think that theory fits you. I mean, you left home at fifteen at your own- or so Danny tells me- will. It was a choice you made and didn't regret. You wanted to escape childhood early. Danny also told me that you're independent, always have been."

Dougie stared at her, mute, so she continued.

"Another theory is that you hate yourself so much it hurts. Your mentality towards yourself is complete disgust, and the emotional pain yu feel everytime you look in the mirror is extreme. You may think you're too much- as in, too loud, too obnoxious, too annoying. The next... _logical_... step is to get rid of the problem which, ultimately, is you. So you starve away your body in an attempt to starve away the parts of yourself that you hate so much."

Dougie's mouth fell open and he felt light headed.

_Beth._

Everything that Georgia just said added up to explain why she did it. She had never made it a secret, on Tumblr or to him, that she despised herself.

Georgia raised her eyebrows. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I just..." He bit his lip and regained his composure. Georgia watched him for a second, then continued. "But there's another one. One that I think would explain a lot about you, Dougie. Of course, I could be totally off the mark."

She took another sip of coffee while he stared at her, impatient.

"It's control, Dougie. It's all about control. Your Dad left and you were bullied. Danny mentioned that your little sister... well, she started doing things most thirteen year olds shouldn't even understand... and your mother veers towards being bipolar, doesn't she?

You couldn't control any of that. And when you escaped it and arrived at the band house, you just ended up with more problems. Tom and Harry fighting, the music getting harder to create, the management demanding things none of you could achieve yet."

"I've seen your room, Dougie. It's very neat. Bordering on the OCD, in fact." She paused, stirring her coffee slowly. "And it's you that tidies the house so vigilantly, isn't it? It's gotten a lot messier since you left. You like being in control of your environment, and when you can't, you freak out. Then you stumbled across the one thing you _could _control. Yourself."

Georgia paused for a second. Dougie was like a statue, watching her face with his mouth slightly open.

"It's so easy to fall into that trap. To focus your attention on perfecting yourself, because you can't perfect anything else. When the only thing you have any say over is your body, you hang on to it like a lifeline. Your weight- or lack thereof- is, as far as you can see, the one thing you can control. So you control it. You dedicate yourself to choosing what goes in to and what leaves your body, because you can. You say, it's my choice to be 90 pounds, and you make that choice, but it's not enough, because you need to keep controlling it. So the weight lowers... and so does your control. And then you look around and you have _no _control, you've gone to far, and you can't stop.

"Sound familiar?"

Dougie was frozen. His fists were clenched around the table. Georgia bit her lip, waiting for a response.

Finally, Dougie moved. He looked at his knees, curled in on himself, and let out a shuddering breath.

He nodded.

"Of course," Georgia said, her voice softer now, "Other things tie into it. You want to be as hot as Danny, as strong willed as Tom, as confident as Harry. Eating disorders feed you lies, Dougie. You want to be independent, but you end up with no say in your own life. You want to be confident, but you end up hating yourself more than you knew was possible. You want to be admirable, but people just pity you. You need to understand that, Dougie. No matter how much weight you lose it will never be enough. That's how you end up dead"

Dougie let out an emotionless laugh. "'At least skeletons are thin.'" He looked up, blushing. "It's a quote thing. It was on-"

"Tumblr?"

Dougie blinked at her. "Yeah."

"Is Beth from Tumblr, too?"

Dougie swallowed and looked away. Ne nodded.

Georgia sighed. "There are a lot of very sad people on tumblr. Very ill people, too. It's not a healthy place to spend too much time on, Dougie. The 'support' your followers give you only goes so far, and then it turns in to a competition to become the thinnest."

Dougie felt a lump in his throat. "I think... I think she's going to die," he whispered, and suddenly he was crying. Georgia grabbed his hand across the tabletop.

"You don't know that for sure. And anyway, you need to help yourself first, Dougie. I think she might have wanted that."


	13. The End

**So.  
>First of all, I have apologies to make. Sorry about the late updates. Sorry about the lack of replies to the reviews. Sorry about bringing such a depressing topic to a relatively happy forum.<br>I hope you like this. If not, sorry for that, too. This is the end. I'm kind of glad, to be honest. Writing this exhausted me; every chapter was more daunting than the last, not to mention how extremely triggering it was. But here it is. Thank you for the amazing support and love you've given me and this story, and I'm always willing to listen to any more of you who have your own stories to tell about any kind of mental illness.  
>Thank you.<strong>

* * *

><p>It was a plate full of food.<br>It was nutrients.  
>Starch: 5 Jacob's cream crackers; 34 calories each.<br>Protein: 8 walnut halves; 12 calories each.  
>Dairy: 20g of butter spread over the 5 Jacob's cream crackers; 45 calories.<br>Fat; one kit kat; 109 calories.  
>It was the fuel for respiration. Respiration creates energy, energy creates life.<br>It was a plate full of life.  
>Dougie picked up a cracker and snapped it in half, then half again. 7 calories. With the butter, 15.<br>He took the half-of-a-half, raised it to his mouth, looked at Georgia, and placed it in his mouth.

* * *

><p>She typed in his URL one day, and his blog was gone. Her heart broke in to a million pieces. Her lips stretched in to a smile. He was recovering, then.<br>That was good.  
>She got up from the computer. 'This URL is not recognized.' Ouch.<br>It hurt.  
><em>Rejection, replacement, recovery.<em>  
>She was in the kitchen, opening the fridge.<br>She was in the kitchen, searching the cupboards.  
><em>Recovery, relapse. Rejection.<em>  
>He rejected her, replaced her, for recovery. It made her happy. Really.<br>Except eating disorders change you as a person. They make you selfish, petty, disgusting, greedy, filthy.  
>She was crawling up the stairs. <em>Swollen stomach, wrenching pain.<em>  
>She told herself she wasn't angry at him. She told herself it would be okay. As soon as she got rid of the foodemotions, she would be sane/in pain again.  
><em>Crazy thoughts. Crazy talk. Blurry, everything's blurry.<em> Fingers down throat- clench of stomach muscles- searing pain- falling. Head cracks against floor tiles.  
>Girl dies.<br>_The end._

* * *

><p>"Go on, Dougs. One more bite."<br>The little people let go of the ropes, and the drawbridge of Dougie's mouth slammed shut. He shook his head.  
>"Please, Dougie." Tom was Not Happy.<br>"No."  
>"Dougie, you can't do this again. One bite. It won't make you put on weight. It's just one bite. Please, Doug, please-"<br>Dougie wrenched the drawbridge back up, shoved the pasta down his throat and ran to his room. They let him cry for a full thirty seconds before following him. Any longer and the pasta would have been an undigested mess in a plastic bag under his bed.  
>"You're getting there, you know," Tom said as he held Dougie to his chest. "That was amazing, that you ate so much. I'm proud."<p>

* * *

><p>It was in the newspapers. Georgia was the first to see it.<br>16 year old girl.  
>Ruptured esophagus.<br>Stomach stretched.  
>Cracked head.<br>Suicide, or accident? Even she wouldn't have known. If she did, she would have lied to herself about it.

* * *

><p>"I can't do this." Dougie stared at Harry, trembling. "Can't. Can't eat it."<br>"Yeah, you can."  
>It took a while, but 80% of the meal was soon gone. So was Dougie's composure. He wanted to kill himself, he said.<br>Harry didn't doubt it for a second.

* * *

><p>Georgia stood on the border between life and death. There was Devizes Road- screaming, bright, glorious in it's man-made commotion. There was the graveyard, vast, grey, silent.<br>There was the family.  
>It wasn't big. A mother, hysterical. A father, mute. A little brother, swaying. A big brother, crumpling.<br>A few not-friends, sobbing.  
>A few teachers, sniffing.<br>A dead girl, dancing.  
><em>At least I'm thin,<em> the voice whispers.  
><em>But I'm not,<em> it argues.  
>Georgia turned away, sickened, and wondered if there would ever be eternal sleep, or if this girl had just left one Hell for another.<p>

* * *

><p>Danny knew they were supposed to be hiding it, but he didn't know about the newspaper left on the side. He didn't know that in between refilling Dougie's orange juice and returning to the table, Dougie would have grabbed the paper and flattened it out so that the girl's face stared out at both of them with accusing eyes.<br>"Beth," Dougie mumbled. Danny was frozen in the middle of the kitchen, eyes moving from the paper to his mobile phone. Tom said to hide it from him at all costs. If Dougie found out, Tom said, he would flip. Danny couldn't deal with a nuclear breakdown, not from Dougie, not after how close he had already come to the edge.  
>"No." Dougie was ashen. His hands were clenched around the paper so tight his knuckles blanched.<br>The front door slammed. Dougie's muscles jumped. The paper slipped from his hands and landed in a small puddle of ribena.  
>Dark liquid soaked through the thin material. Tom entered the kitchen and all three watched as a dark stain appeared under the girl's left eye and spread down her grainy, paper-thin cheek. Nobody moved. The ghost girl gazed up at them with a trace of a smile on her lips and blood-tears running down her face.<br>"She never got very thin, did she?" Dougie said quietly.  
>Tom gaped at him. <em>Sick. That's sick. Disgusting.<em>  
>"She really did die for nothing, didn't she?"<br>It was a question. He was genuinely curious. Danny swallowed the rock-hard lump in his throat. "Yeah," he whispered. "She did."  
>"Unless it was intentional," Dougie murmured, almost to himself. "She did talk about doing it a lot. Said it would kill the demons in her head."<br>He turned and walked to the door.  
>"Dougie, where are you going?" Tom called, stumbling after him.<br>Dougie didn't turn. "Out."  
>"No, you're n-"<br>"Don't _fucking _tell me what to do, Tom! She was my _best friend_!"  
>"No she was not, she nearly killed you! What kind of a friend would try to kill-"<br>"_No!_" Dougie's face contorted. He opened his mouth and Danny flinched, dreading the screaming, the denial, the relapse.  
>The door opened, and Dougie nearly fell out of the house. Georgia caught him and stared over his head at Danny. "What's going on?"<p>

* * *

><p>It was a four hour drive to Salisbury. Georgia's neck was stiff with tension by the time they reached Amesbury, and Dougie hadn't said a word the entire drive.<br>She chose a parking place on the dusty track at the entrance to the cemetery. Dougie didn't move. Georgia turned to look at him, neck aching.  
>"You don't have to do this."<br>Dougie was out of the car in two seconds flat.  
>Georgia locked up and took her place beside him. He was gazing over the vast expanse of murky-green ground, eyes wide at the sheer quantity of graves dotted around.<br>She raised her hand to point to a small copse of trees in the distance. Dougie shuddered and began stumbling forwards.

* * *

><p><em>"I won't drag you down with me. You need to get better."<br>"I can't get better!"  
>"Yeah, you can. You have to."<br>"Don't you dare. Don't you _fucking _dare. Beth! Don't you leave me alone like this!"  
>"I'm not," and tears were choked out on both ends of the phone line, but his were desperate and her's were<em> _tired. "I'm giving you back to your friends. Don't let them go, Dougie. Don't stop fighting."_

* * *

><p>He could see it in front of him. Just a few more steps. His chest was collapsing in on itself, crumbling between his ribs and crushing his heart. Georgia was calling his name from somewhere. Her voice echoed, like they were stood in a tunnel.<br>On one end, Georgia.  
>On the other, a dead girl.<br>His legs gave up and suddenly Dougie was on his ass on a rectangle of loose dirt. Six feet under him was a girl with acid-rotted teeth and a distended stomach.  
>Dougie fell forwards. His head hit the cold stone of her grave, and he started screaming.<p>

* * *

><p>Georgia held him until the sun went down and the dead people came out to play. Dougie looked up, and there they were- not visible, exactly, but definitely tangible. Invisible shadows, moving statues, freezing hands and silent whispers. They almost felt more real to him than Georgia did. He didn't mention them, but she held him tighter, as if she felt them, too.<br>Of course she did.  
>"Why did you stop?"<br>Georgia thought over her answer for a while before she spoke it out loud. "My original intentions were quite shallow. I wanted to be beautiful. I eventually realized that I was turning in to something hideous, both inside and out. I was a monster."  
>Dougie sniffed. Georgia shivered in the cool air. In the relative distance, a car sped by.<br>"She wasn't very pretty," He said quietly. "Not on the outside. She didn't even lose much weight, that wasn't the problem. She just... she had flaws, yeah?" He paused. "She was beautiful inside, though. She threw me away for me. For my recovery. I think she knew that she was going to... that she wasn't going to get better."  
>"She was a good person, then," Georgia said. "I don't mean to be cold, but as long as you're alive, I don't care if she's dead or not."<br>Dougie fell silent, and Georgia began to apologize, but he interrupted her. "She is alive. I can feel her. She's waiting."  
>"For what?"<br>"For me to get out." Dougie picked up a nearby twig and began scraping swirls into the dirt.  
>"Get out of what?" Georgia frowned.<br>Dougie put his hands flat on the grave. "This is her grave. Not mine. But I'm in it. As long as I'm hurting myself, I'm just hanging around in her grave, trying to follow her. But this is her hole, not mine. I think when I'm gone, she'll go, too."  
>"In that case," Georgia murmured, "You need to get out of this hole. Otherwise she'll be stuck here forever."<br>"I know." Dougie breathed out and stood up. "Can we go?"  
>Georgia blinked at his abruptness and stumbled to her feet. "Sure. Um, are you o-"<br>"I'm fine," Dougie said quickly. "Just- I'm hungry."


End file.
